Wolfsbane
by muggleborn.dragon.ryder
Summary: This is Berk. We have axe-throwing, swordfighting and a charming view of the moon rise. The only problems are the monsters. While most people have little things like rats or termites, we have...werewolves.
1. Prologue: Blood in the Snow

Wolfsbane

Prologue: Blood in the Snow

**A/N: Happy Halloween, everybody! My friend, RazzlePazzleDooDot, has been encouraging me to write this story for months - in fact, it was her idea in the first place, and I just kind of added to it a bit. Let it be known, however, that none of the actual writing belongs to her - it belongs to me. However, HTTYD, unfortunately, does not belong to me. If it did, one of my other AUs, To Be Loved the Way You Love Me, just might have been canon xD**

**Well, I hope you all enjoy this fic! I'm doing Nano Wrimo this year, but I'll try to keep this updated as well. **

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><p><em>This is Berk. <em>

_On here, we have fishing, hunting, and a charming view of the sunsets. The only problems are the pests. You see, while most places have mice or mosquitoes, we have…wolves. _

_And I'm not talking about your average wolves, either. I mean, these things are huge. To be honest, they're closer to the size of dragons than they are their own species, but you can still tell they're wolves. Their cruel, blood-soaked muzzles, unforgiving, sharp teeth and dirty, matted, muddy fur all tell the story. And speaking of stories, the one I'm about to tell you is the story of how I, the shy, weak son of chief Stoick the Vast, became… _

_A monster. _

_It's a story of how a single wolf changed my life, a wolf that some people previously doubted in. Everybody wondered how a creature like that could possibly exist; he was more shadow than true, corporeal being, and he seemed to almost glide everywhere he went, under the silvery evening stars, his paws just an inch or two above the wet grass. Over the years, people nicknamed him 'Night Fury', for he was only ever seen on the blackest of nights and every time, he seemed angrier and angrier. _

_This is the story of when I met the Night Fury for the first time. _

The wolves normally attacked on the full moon, but for some strange reason, they had started attacking more and more frequently, so the terror was no longer just monthly; it could happen at any time. But it always happened at night, especially when the Night Fury struck. Nobody had ever faced down this wolf and lived to tell the tale. He mauled them all to death, his cruel teeth ripping huge chunks of flesh, biting through bone and muscle to get to the blood, which he drank with all the relish and ecstasy of a vampire.

The wolves sickened me. I'm not going to pretend they didn't. I was scared of them. I wanted to stay as far away from them as I possibly could, to be honest. But every time the wolves attacked, I made sure to be out there on the battlefield, hoping to catch one of them, even the bluish-gray Deadly Nadder wolf, or the greenish Gronckle wolf, even if he was slow and stupid and not a very impressive kill.

Because, stronger than fear was the village. Their comments about me rang in my ears long after the terror of the wolves had fled my mind. They called me useless, and they said I would never amount to anything. When my dad wasn't around, Snotlout couldn't get enough of mocking me. And speaking of my dad, I guess he's the reason I went charging off into the battlefield in the first place.

It wasn't just the village, you see. My dad never said anything directly to me – mostly he just kind of shook his head whenever I talked, or scowled at me, like someone had skimped on the meat in his sandwich. But over time, he stopped scowling at me. He just…stopped, entirely. He quit listening to me, he quit looking at me. He quit loving me.

But I knew that if I could do something impressive, something amazing, like capturing the elusive Night Fury and cutting out his heart, then Dad would finally look at me again, and he would love me again. The village would quit saying that I'd never amount to anything. I wasn't useless, but I was getting closer and closer by the day.

So, on the particular night our story starts, a very dark and cold one, for winter was just around the corner, I ignored everyone who told me to just stay inside this time, and I ran out onto the battlefield once again. Wolves were everywhere of course, tearing apart whole huts with just one crash of their mighty paws, killing every Viking they saw with just one gnash of their huge jaws.

I swallowed uncomfortably as I surveyed the scene – there was that bluish-gray wolf, the Nadder, and there was the Gronckle, and the exotic, agile Zippleback that had evaded us for so long. There was the Monstrous Nightmare, and it was the one mostly responsible for all the dead Vikings. I didn't have a weapon; I hadn't bothered to grab one, so excited and anxious was I about this fresh attack. I disregarded all the wolves currently attacking the village; my eyes sought only one, the black one, neither living nor dead.

But he found me first.

I heard a soft growling from somewhere behind me, and my heart jumped into my throat. Turning slowly on the spot, I locked eyes with the wolf that I had sought so vigorously. Its eyes – I had never really seen its eyes before. They were bright, forest green, and seemed to seethe with the guilt and rage of centuries. For just a moment, I saw such emotion, such wrath in those eyes that I understood why people had tacked 'fury' onto his name.

The wolf regarded me for a moment before closing his teeth around my wrist and dragging me downward, onto the cold grass, wet from melting snow. I shivered as the wetness soaked into my clothing, but I was caught in the cruel gaze. The Night Fury raced forward and pinned me down onto the ground, glaring into my eyes. It knelt down, the thick tail brushing over my legs. I stared at it, petrified as it took my hand in those sharp teeth, those powerful jaws, and I shuddered, wishing I could run, but knowing the Night Fury was far too heavy for me to throw off.

It closed its teeth around my hand, and pain exploded in the skin, traveling up the arm and turning it all numb. I gave a sharp cry, trying to thrust the beast off of my chest, but it was so much stronger than I was. I raised a leg and kneed it in the furry abdomen, rising to my feet the instant it released me. I stumbled away blindly, and though I wasn't running very fast, the Night Fury didn't try to keep pace with me, or bite me again. It let me get away.

I looked down at the ground for just a second as I ran, and I saw a small trail of tiny blood droplets, falling into the pure white snow as I ran, cradling my hand, leaving that trail like a path in the snow.

I couldn't understand why, but I kept running, grateful for every second that I lasted, because I was sure that it would be after me at any second. I finally made it back to the real battle, but I was so distracted that I nearly stepped right in front of one of the wolves, before I was jerked back by an unseen hand on my collar.

My father glared at me, his gray eyes hard and cold with anger. "What are you doing out again? Get inside!"

He dropped me back onto the grass, but I could barely make sense of anything that he'd just said to me. I stumbled into the forge blindly, shedding my vest and shaking slightly from my encounter with that terrible beast. For as long as I lived, I would never forget the terrible anger in those eyes – an anger borne of fear, and lost hope, and the frustration of never being completely understood.

You see, I could understand those things, because I'd felt them, too. I looked down at the bite on my hand, the teeth marks burning bright red against my pale skin. I would never forget this burning, numbing pain, or the sight of those scarlet blood droplets in the snow.


	2. Chapter 1: The Bite

Wolfsbane

Chapter 1: The Bite

**A/N: Yeah, like I said in the prologue, I'm doing Nano Wrimo, so this kind of fell by the wayside. But it's not over or discontinued or anything, it's just gonna be a bit of time between updates is all. And wow, 27 favorites, 7 reviews and 36 follows just for the prologue? :D wow. **

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><p>Yeah, yeah. I know. I was stupid for not saying anything about the bite, right? Well, maybe I was, but whenever I mentioned being hurt, everyone just glared or gave me the evil eye, even sometimes my dad. So I learned to shut up and just take care of things myself. It was quicker, easier and less embarrassing that way if I handled it. So, I figured I'd put in just enough work at the forge, duck out and get back to my house, wrap the injury and wait until the next attack. They were becoming so frequent nowadays that I wouldn't be surprised if there was one tomorrow.<p>

But in the meantime, while I wasn't out there on the battlefield trying to prove myself, I'd try to survive. Maybe you think I'm being dramatic, so to give you a clue as to what I mean, this is what happened when the attack was over and I walked out of the forge: Phlegma the Fierce rolled her eyes, Mulch the fisherman scowled and folded his arms, and my dad's gray eyes landed on me for an instant before flicking away again. I looked away from him, back down at the grass. It was easier to stare at the individual blades of green than see anger or disappointment in his eyes.

I passed by Snotlout and his gang on my way back to the house, and of course he started laughing at me. I used to cry a lot whenever he did something to me, but lately I'd become so used to it that it hardly mattered anymore.

"Thank Thor you finally got it into your head to stay inside and leave the fighting to the more capable Vikings." That was the first thing he said, but I could tell he was gearing up for some other stuff. He reached out like he was going to punch me, and I sidestepped easily – he wasn't putting a lot of effort into it, to be honest, otherwise he probably would've given me an impressive bruise.

"Yeah, sure," I mumbled sarcastically, keeping my eyes fixed on the ground while Snotlout's friends, the twins, giggled like idiots. If I could just make it past them and up to the house, I could get home before my dad and avoid an awkward conversation with him altogether.

Snotlout frowned, and I knew why – he wanted a response, a reaction, and I wasn't giving him one. "Listen, Useless," he snapped, planting himself in my path so I had to look up at him, "don't start getting all cocky now. You're still our little screw-up."

"I know," I told him. Maybe you think I was being dramatic, and maybe he thought that I was humoring him, but to be honest, I was only stating the truth. I was a screw-up. I always would be. Nearly every time I went outside during the attacks, I managed to hurt the village and myself in some way – not that anybody really cared if I hurt myself, of course, but still.

"What's wrong with you?" Snotlout demanded, confused and frustrated.

"Everything," I replied. The truth was, I was just so tired of dealing with his shit. He had been giving me too much for too long, and I was tired of giving him a response every time he wanted one. I waited patiently for him to step aside.

He gave me a shove to display his dominance, I presumed, and then swept away with his idiotic friends. I glared after him, rolling my eyes as I picked myself up off the ground. Brushing myself off and still scowling after them, I managed to make it to my feet, but I was so distracted that I walked – and I mean, literally walked right into – Astrid Hofferson.

But wait. Slow down. You don't know who Astrid Hofferson is, do you? Let me paint a picture in your mind.

She's beautiful, blonde, blue-eyed, tough but delicate-looking, handy with an axe, Viking-ly yet graceful. And, uh, did I mention out of my league? Basically, she is the peak of perfection and as I was the lowest form of imperfection, the idea that she would ever even look at me was essentially laughable.

Astrid scowled when she saw it was me. "Watch where you're going," she growled, but as I started to blush and stammer out apologies, she glanced down. Surprisingly, her angry demeanor faded. She slipped her axe into the hold at her waist and grabbed my stinging hand in her warm ones. "Hiccup, wait."

Butterflies started in my stomach, mostly because I didn't even know Astrid knew my name until right then, and she was actually touching me willingly.

"Where did this come from?" Her blue eyes were serious and intent when they focused on me.

"One of the wolves," I replied, before realizing how weak it sounded.

Instead of calling me weak, however, Astrid just looked kind of shocked. "They bit you? I didn't know the wolves did that."

I lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug. "Yeah, neither did I." But really, who cared about a stupid bite on my hand when _Astrid Hofferson was touching me?!_

"You'd better look after that," she released my hand and spoke firmly. "Who knows what's in that bite?"

"I….um….I was actually going home to do that. Right now," I managed to stammer, and Astrid smiled. Astrid actually smiled at me.

"Good thinking. I'll see you later then, I guess?" She slid her axe back into her hand and started on her way, but my heart was pounding so hard that I barely made it up the steps to the porch. I slipped inside the house, replaying her words in my head, over and over again.

That 'I'll see you later'… had she said that because she actually wanted to see me later? The idea was too good to be true. Still…I managed to make it through an entire conversation with her without embarrassing myself once, and that ought to count for something.

So, grinning from ear to ear, I walked into the kitchen to find the ointments and bandages.


	3. Chapter 2: Lost One

Wolfsbane

Chapter 2: Lost One

**A/N: This chapterrrr is bleh. It doesn't solve anything and I hate it, but I guess the next chapter will be better. I could rewrite, but I am NOT re-explaining Wolf Training to the reader. **

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><p>I cleaned the bite with the first ointment my fingers touched, which turned out to be Runny Seagull Poo, or something along those lines. I ended up scrubbing the ointment off again with soap and water, but by that point, the bite was itching and burning so badly, and it had turned such a bright red that I just put some gauze on it before going upstairs and collapsing in bed. I waited for my brain to unconsciously realize that the bite was no longer being irritated, and for the pain to go away, but it never did. I rolled over on my side, listening to the wolves howling outside my window. I'd listened to their songs for years, and they always sounded sort of…sad. Forlorn. Like they were mourning somebody lost, somebody they knew they could never get back.<p>

Their howls sounded different this time. Less like mourning, and more like celebrating. Like their lost one had returned. But that was crazy, I told myself, casting my pillow aside onto the floor – it wasn't as comfortable as I remembered – and closing my eyes against their noise. The wolves didn't have feelings. They had taken my mother from me, and they'd given me a nasty bite. They destroyed our home on a regular basis, and they were completely without conscience. Whatever they were celebrating, it was not anything good. I fell asleep.

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><p>The first thing I was aware of was the bite. It hadn't stopped itching, and now the sensation was worse than ever. With a groan, I released all hope of further sleep, undid the gauze and gasped when I saw what lay beneath.<p>

The skin was raw and bright pink, red in places, and shiny, like it had been burned. Pus leaked out from where the teeth had gone in, and discoloration was welling up near it. Blood dotted the injury, like I'd bled in my sleep, and my whole hand was hot to the touch. I pressed my fingers to the back of my hand slowly, feeling heat seeping out, and pus quickly following, a bit actually trickling out onto my blanket. I kicked the covers off and walked downstairs, thinking to myself that maybe I'd try something, another ointment, to see if that helped the bite.

However, when I arrived downstairs and sat down at the kitchen table, I was hit with an unwelcome surprise: Dad hadn't yet left. He was still sitting at the kitchen table, kind of poking absently at his food, and when I sat down, he looked up, straightened and spoke. "Hiccup."

"Dad." I nodded at him in recognition.

He looked annoyed, but let it slide. "I need to speak with you, son."

_Shit. _

Did somebody tell him that I ran out during the attack again? No, nobody really noticed me. Was he going to harp on me about getting bitten? No, nobody noticed that, either. I resigned myself to going in blind, and scooted closer to the table. "Alright."

"I've made a decision, and I think you'll like it," he started, "you'll start your training tomorrow morning."

"What…what training?"

Dad blinked at me, like he thought I was being stupid on purpose, but honestly – what training? Nothing was coming to me at the moment. "Wolf Training, Hiccup," he replied, kind of slowly, like he thought I was being sarcastic when I asked. "You know, for the wolves?"

"Oh!" My elbows slipped off the table and I leaned back in surprise, trying to take it in. "Right…"

Wolf Training. It had been going on for years, and it never really helped, but everyone in the village liked to pretend it did, so it kept going on. The thing about Wolf Training was that, my dad had an idea, you see, that the wolves lived somewhere in the forest, in a pack, and that they had a spot where they usually stayed when they weren't attacking us. But because the adults were so busy defending the village against the attacks and everything and couldn't leave in the middle of one, they started sending teenagers into the forest to scope out the scene and report back. So far, nobody had found the place where the wolves generally lived, but it wasn't from lack of trying. There just wasn't any luck yet.

But my dad wasn't one for giving up, and he insisted that we would find where they lived. But before you could join in on the team, the adults decided to make the teenagers undergo a series of rigorous tests referred to as "Wolf Training". Most of them were fairly safe experiences, like reading the book on wolves ("everything we know about every wolf we know of", Gobber said) or answering simple questions that your teacher (Gobber) fired off at you in the middle of class, right when you weren't expecting it. But the final exam was the scariest part. For the final exam, you were each given a chance to take down a captive wolf – whoever killed it was considered the leader of their class, and was allowed to lead the expedition into the woods.

And my dad thought I was pleased by this idea? No! Oh, hell, no. My opinion of the wolves had not changed: they were terrifying creatures, and I wanted to stay away from them. I knew that I would keep going out during attacks, and keep trying to take one of them down, but for some reason, the idea of looking for their home was a lot scarier. But I knew that saying so would not only do no good, it would also make me look weak. And I wasn't going to look weak in front of my dad.

So I straightened my back and tried to smile for him. "That's, uh, that's…great, Dad. Thanks for…thanks for signing me up."

He frowned, obviously sensing my lack of enthusiasm. Well, excuse me for not wanting to hunt the creatures that regularly attack my home, but I was trying, here. "Train hard," he ordered, pushing back from the table, leaving his uneaten plate of food. "I need to go help clean up the mess those beasts left."

"Okay." I nodded at him, watching as he left the room, walking out of the house and back out of my life, as he's been doing for years now. I pushed my own chair back from the table, examining the oozing injury on the back of my hand. If I was going into Wolf Training tomorrow, I hoped that faded before then. I didn't want to be the example of what not to do.

I followed the path my dad had taken out of the house, but I went a different way, going instead towards the forge, the smell of ash and smoke hitting my nose before I was even in the door. I heaved a deep sigh, shutting the large wooden door behind me and preparing to get to work.


	4. Chapter 3: The Eyes

Wolfsbane

Chapter 3: The Eyes

**A/N: I like this chapter, but it's a little short. What do you guys think? Please review!**

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><p>"Welcome to Wolf Training!" Gobber greeted me cheerfully when I walked into the Great Hall, which was almost completely empty except for a long table in the middle by the fire pit, where all the other teenagers who'd signed up for this were sitting, too. He gestured for me to take the seat on the end, next to Fishlegs. Astrid offered me a quick, tense smile, but pretty soon she was looking back at Gobber. I looked up at him too as he shoved a leather bound book at us, the Wolf Book. Fishlegs gave an excited gasp.<p>

"I've read this like, seven times!" He tapped the cover with his finger. "There's this one wolf that can kill you with its breath!"

"Yeah, and you can kill me with yours," Snotlout chipped in.

Fishlegs flushed, and Gobber clucked disapprovingly. "None of that, Snotlout. You're here to learn, not make jokes."

Unable to believe that Gobber, king of ill-timed smart remarks, had just said that, I just stared at him for a second, but he kept looking at Snotlout.

Gobber started speaking again, though he kept an eye on Snotlout after that. I mostly zoned out through the whole class, which I know was rude and wrong and everything, but I hadn't even signed up for this. I'd never showed any interest in this. Astrid shot me a look when Gobber brought up wolf bites, but all he said was, "And nobody really knows what happens when you get bitten by a wolf, so just try to stay out of the way of their teeth, okay?"

"That's really informative," I mumbled to myself, looking down at the Wolf Book. It was still lying in the middle of the table, but not for long. Gobber reached over and opened it.

"What is the one defining characteristic of the Gronckle? Anyone?" He flipped to a random page in the book as he spoke, and both Astrid and Fishlegs raised their hands.

"Their tails are thick," Fishlegs gabbled when Gobber called on him, "and can sometimes be used as a weapon in combat. Their fur is sometimes three feet thick in places, and the skin underneath is like armor."

Gobber nodded approvingly. "Well done, Fishlegs."

Astrid looked slightly disappointed, putting her hand down again.

Gobber asked questions about every breed that attacked, except the Night Fury. The only one I could answer questions about, because I had seen one, up close and personal. The thought, the memory, still made me shudder. That wolf was scary.

Gobber closed the book and set it back down on the table. "Same time, same place tomorrow. Class dismissed."

Wow. I blinked. That was actually…easy. So long as I didn't make eye contact, Gobber didn't call me, and Astrid and Fishlegs handled everything while Ruffnut, Tuffnut and Snotlout made obnoxious noises in the background. All I had to do was pretend to be invisible, and nobody even looked at me.

Even though Gobber had dismissed the class, the other teens still hung around to talk, grabbing food and bringing it back to the table, tearing into chicken with their teeth and exchanging stories and anecdotes.

"I hope I get some serious bites," Tuffnut confided to us as he ate a fish on a stick, pushing the book away to make room for his food.

I shuddered. "No, you don't."

They ignored me.

"I'm hoping for some mauling," Ruffnut said. "Like, on my shoulder, or lower back."

"Yeah, it's only fun if you get a scar out of it," Astrid joked.

"Yeah, no kidding, right?" I mumbled, looking down at the table. "Pain. Love it."

Even though the others ignored me, Astrid laughed a little. I pushed my chair back from the table and left the Hall. Since I was considered temporarily relieved of my apprentice duties while Wolf Training was going on, I had nowhere to go but home. I was pulling out my sketchbook and halfway into the living room when it happened. I looked up and my eyes met the shield in the corner. It was one of my dad's prize shields, because unlike most Viking shields, it wasn't made out of wood. It was made out of some kind of reflective material, so you could see yourself when you looked in it. My dad never used it in battle, because it wouldn't hold up, but he kept it in the living room.

I looked up and saw the shield, and for a second I didn't think anything of myself. Wild red hair, check. Sketchbook, check. Huge green eyes…no. Don't check that. My eyes were the only part of my appearance I honestly liked, because they came from my mother. But when I looked at them in the shield, they were red. I mean, bright red, and not just the irises, but the whole eye. Even the whites had gone bright red, but my vision wasn't impaired at all. I blinked, and the redness vanished from my eyes.

It must, I thought to myself, have been a trick of the light.


	5. Chapter 4: Newborn

Wolfsbane

Chapter 4: Newborn

**A/N: So, I was kind of thinking about changing the title of this story. I named it Wolfsbane originally because I didn't have a good title, and I just wanted to get it up, and Wolfsbane worked for the moment. But I was listening to Within Temptation's "A Demon's Fate" today, and it struck me that the song really matches this story, so I was thinking of renaming the story "Heaven in this Hell". I could also rename it just the title of the song, but that doesn't really fit to me. I'm not sure what to do, so will you guys please tell me what you think of the idea of changing the title? Oh, and tell me what you think of the chapter, too! Please. **

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><p>The next day was surreal. The back of my hand wasn't hurting at all when I awoke, and I felt…good. Better than I could ever remember feeling, anyway. I felt like I could move a mountain, which even Vikings didn't generally try to do. Still, I felt certain that whatever obstacle got tossed in my way today, I'd be able to overcome it. I threw off my blankets and ran downstairs, surprised when I arrived at the bottom and found that I wasn't even out of breath. Generally, even a light jog could rob me of energy in minutes.<p>

I ate quickly – I was hungrier than I could ever remember being, too, and I was craving meat for some reason, but I ate eggs and bacon like an ordinary person – and looked out the window at the beautiful morning. The sky was watery, pale blue, and the sun was pouring brilliant rays down on the island. It was a great day to be alive.

I ran my fingers through my hair, considering checking my reflection in the shield, but deciding against it. The only thing that could bother me today was another trick of the light like the one from yesterday, so I was eager not to repeat the experience. To add to the overall weirdness of the day, I had never really been a fast runner. Furthermore, I had never, ever been physically fit in my life. I mean, sure, I was small and skinny, but just because I didn't have any excess meat on my bones didn't automatically mean I was in shape. I wasn't fast or agile or athletic in any way whatsoever.

But I ran, all the way from my house on the hill to the Great Hall in the village square, as fast as I could ever remember going in my life. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, but it maintained the strong, steady rhythm. Normally, my heart beat fast and sporadic whenever I did anything physical, but it was just the same as it always was. It felt great, too. I had never known running could be so nice.

I slowed when I reached the Great Hall, opening one of the double doors and easing inside. Those doors had always been hard for me to open – they were just so heavy, and thick – but they came away easily today. Another weird thing. I stepped inside. The table we had sat at yesterday was empty, and only Gobber was standing near it. I could see the Wolf Book open on the table, even from this distance.

A few people who'd had a late start to their day were moseying out of the Hall to make way for the Wolf Training crowd, and so I ignored them, hurrying over to Gobber.

"Hi," I beamed at him, taking my seat from yesterday and pulling the Wolf Book closer to me. I hadn't gotten a chance to study it yesterday, and I was pretty sure I couldn't get away with just avoiding Gobber's eye today.

The blacksmith gave me an odd look. "Aren't we chipper today? What happened, did Astrid look in your general direction or something?"

A faint blush tainted my cheeks – seriously, how did Gobber even know I liked her? I kept it a secret! – but I refused to let him sidetrack me. "No, that's not what happened. I just feel good today. Optimistic."

He looked at me again. Longer this time. "Are you…feeling okay today, Hiccup?"

"Yeah!" I smiled. "I'm feeling great, actually!"

I glanced down at the page of the book Gobber had flipped to, mostly to avoid him staring at me any more, and I was surprised to find the section was on newborn wolves.

_Newborn wolves tend to be eccentric, irrational creatures. They are generally very happy throughout their childhood, and they spend a lot of their time running. They are exceptionally athletic creatures, as far as we understand, and they can outrun even an adult Viking. _

The sound of the Great Hall door opening distracted me from reading the rest, but I became uncomfortably aware, as I looked around to see who had arrived, that Gobber was still staring at me. His mouth was drawn down at the corners, obviously curious about my sudden change. I wasn't _always_ in a bad mood, was I?

Fishlegs slid into the seat beside mine, perking up immediately when he saw Snotlout wasn't there, and when he saw that I had the book. "Are you reading it? Isn't it good?"

"Yeah, it's really interesting," I replied, taking my hands off of the pages so quickly that I accidentally flipped all the way to the back. Gobber sent me an annoyed look, and I flushed, ducking my head and searching for the section he'd had open again.

"What part were you reading?" Fishlegs asked me excitedly. "The newborn section? Yeah, that's so fascinating! I had no idea wolves even—

The door to the Great Hall opened again, and Fishlegs instantly fell silent. Astrid, Snotlout, and the twins filed in, taking their seats at the table.

I released the book and pushed it over to Fishlegs, letting him study the cover to avoid looking at the twins and Snotlout. Even if Fishlegs was allowed to sit at the same table with them over dinner, I knew that the three others weren't exactly what you'd call his friends.

Fishlegs gratefully took the opportunity to avoid looking at them, and Astrid sent me a quick smile as she took her seat. The third smile from her in three days. I hoped that meant something.

Gobber quickly distracted me by clearing his throat and snatching the book from Fishlegs. He gave me kind of a glare when he had to search for the section on newborns again, but I offered him an apologetic shrug. How was I to know he wanted to keep it on that page?

"Right. Here we are." He set the open book back down on the table in front of us. "Now, chances are, you guys are going to encounter a lot of newborn wolves when you locate their home in the forest, so you'll need to be prepared for whatever you might see there. Newborn wolves tend to be irrational and eccentric," he tapped the book as he quoted it, "but that's just because they haven't yet gotten control of themselves. In a way, that makes them more dangerous than the adult wolves, too. They're also faster than the adults, because they have more energy and spirit. And their eyes tend to change color, because a wolf's genes are not fully decided until the pup is about three years old, so their eye color might be unstable, and their fur tends to darken or lighten as they grow. Newborn wolves also have two sets of teeth, instead of one, like adults, so watch out for that. Their claws are blunter, though, thank Thor for that."

I leaned a little closer to the book to read these facts for myself as Gobber recited them. But…it was weird. Everything I read about the newborn wolves reminded me of how I felt today. It said that newborn wolves felt like they were almost superhuman, or superwolf, more like, because they weren't used to all their abilities, unlike adult wolves. I remembered my feeling of being able to tackle anything, my eyes flashing momentarily red, and my unnatural speed while running.

I looked down at the bite on the back of my hand. It felt fine today, but it looked worse than ever. It was still bright pink and raw, but the pus had vanished, to be replaced with brown spots that looked like third-degree burns. It felt rough and scaly, almost crusty to the touch, like I was wearing a glove of dragon skin. I nearly recoiled when I felt it, but Gobber distracted me by yelling, "Class dismissed! Same time tomorrow!"

No. I shook my head. No, it couldn't be. It was too stupid. There was no way that the Night Fury had bitten me and somehow given me the habits and abilities and outlook of a newborn wolf. That would just be too weird. My new and unexplained ability to run without getting out of breath must be something else. Maybe all that work in the forge was finally paying off, and I was now as fit as I'd always wanted to be. I pushed my chair back from the table. I needed to be alone, to think.

I became aware of footsteps behind me as I walked to the door and when I slipped outside, I saw Astrid standing there, breathing in the early morning air. I offered her a small smile, sidestepping quickly to allow her to get ahead of me. She didn't. I wondered why she was still standing there, and considered briefly that maybe she really did want to talk to me, but this idea was even stupider than the Night Fury transporting the abilities of a newborn one, so I quickly dismissed it.

"Hi," I nodded at her, hoping to at least alert her to my presence. For somebody who seemed like she wanted to talk to me, she sure seemed lost in thought now that she had my attention.

"Oh, hi," she came back to earth abruptly, like she was surprised that I was still standing there. So I was right. It was a stupid idea that she would ever want to talk to me, and I blushed, preparing to slink off in shame, but her next few words stopped me. "Sorry about that – I can get a little spacey sometimes. Nothing like you today in class, of course."

"In class?"

"You just kept staring at the table like you were really interested in it – I assumed you were just spacing out."

"Oh, no…I was looking…at the bite…actually." I wasn't about to confess my suspicions to her, but I also didn't want her thinking I was a space cadet.

"Were you?" Astrid descended the last few steps. "Yeah, how's it doing, by the way?"

As if I was going to actually show her. I instinctively placed both hands behind my back, opting for a little smile. "It's okay, actually. It feels a lot better now. And it looks better, too." Dragon skin glove look was better than pus look, I thought. Of course, now I was just gabbling mindlessly to extend the conversation, and that felt stupid, so I shut up.

But the silence seemed to make things more awkward. Astrid just kept standing there, like she was waiting for me to say something. "Going to be a full moon tomorrow night," she offered up at last.

"Oh…cool."

"Cool?" She looked surprised.

"Well, um…full moons are nice. Pretty. They give lots of light."

"They are also the one day of the month in which we can guarantee wolves attacking," she pointed out flatly.

"Oh." I blushed. "Right." I'd thought I was the only one who noticed that pattern. I didn't believe I was any smarter than the other people in the village, but sometimes, I just noticed things they didn't. But whenever I tried to point these things out to them, they just told me to shut up, so that's what I did. I didn't tell them about my observations anymore.

Astrid blew out a breath then, like telling me off was exhausting or something. "Anyway," her voice sounded much lighter when she spoke now. "Talk to you tomorrow then, I guess?"

_Tomorrow. _It seemed like a promise. "Yeah," I nodded. "For sure."


End file.
